


Ethereal (The Unlikely Soulmates Remix)

by RocknVaughn



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Prostitution, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2018-03-29 21:07:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3910696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RocknVaughn/pseuds/RocknVaughn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur Pendragon is a high-class prostitute attending a charity gala on the arm of Nimueh McKinsey, fashion icon and owner of Nimueh Designs. </p><p>He'd learned the hard way that hopes and dreams were to be avoided at all costs, as they inevitably led to pain and heartache. </p><p>That is, until he meets Merlin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ethereal (The Unlikely Soulmates Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ZairaA](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZairaA/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Glorious](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1042497) by [ZairaA](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZairaA/pseuds/ZairaA). 



> This remix is for the very darling ZairaA, whose stories are always so wonderfully crafted. I hope you enjoy hearing Arthur's side of the story. <3
> 
> My thanks to my beta K, as well as the Remix mods, who've been very kind and understanding. You guys are great!

With a dispassionate eye, Arthur Pendragon surveyed the decked out and bejewelled crowd that swarmed around him. As per usual it was a Who’s Who of designers, models, reporters, and investors; everyone who was anyone in the European fashion industry made sure not to miss one of Nimueh McKinsey’s charity galas.

 

Arthur was impeccably dressed in a black Dolce & Gabanna dinner suit that fit him like a second skin. All around him, heads turned as he passed by; the gossip that followed in his wake was little more than a vague annoyance. After all, he’d been Nimueh’s eye candy at way too many of her parties for him to fool anyone as to his true purpose for being there.

 

At one time, he’d hoped to be a part of this crowd for a very different reason, but that felt like a lifetime ago…back when he’d been terribly young and hideously naive. Back before he’d learned that there was no one in the world he could rely on but himself.

 

There had been a time when Nimueh’s parties (including the private one she always insisted upon afterward) had disgusted and incensed Arthur. But that was a long time ago; back when emotion still ruled over his head. He’d had six long, tough years of selling his body to strangers to teach him that emotions had no place in nor served any purpose in his new profession.

 

Arthur was now far enough removed from that impetuous, righteous, but desperate 17-year-old boy he’d once been to even feel a tiny bit grateful for the opportunity Nimueh had provided. If not for her inappropriate carnal interest in her former best-friend’s son, he would not have had the opportunity to gather the top-tier clients he had…the ones that helped pay for his sister Morgana’s hospital bills and kept her getting the treatment she so desperately needed to get well. The improvement she showed during his weekly visits to her made his horrid fate worth it.

 

Besides, Nimueh was still quite pleasant to look at even if she _was_  old enough to be his mother. He’d certainly had to lie with many people less appealing than her.

 

He idly swirled the champagne in the flute he held before lifting it to his lips to take a sip, not even attempting to hide his ennui. When they’d made a round of the room once to show him off, Nimueh usually cut him adrift until the end of the party, a fact that actually quite pleased him. He preferred his own thoughts to her idle prattle, anyway.

 

Just as he’d handed his now-empty champagne glass to a passing waiter, Arthur felt a prickle of awareness that made the shortest hairs at the nape of his neck stand on end. Someone was watching him, and not with derision and scorn like he usually was. He could feel the caress of their eyes almost as if it were a physical touch. Warmth pooled in the pit of Arthur’s stomach as he turned, following the gaze back to its source.

 

There on the balcony stood a man Arthur had never seen before, his deep blue eyes now locked on Arthur’s own. He was pale and lithe, his fitted dinner suit making his legs look _miles_ long. His ebony hair was a perfect foil for his alabaster skin. He also possessed killer cheekbones, sinfully full lips, and ears that appeared almost elfin in nature. The man was beautiful; ethereal in a way Arthur had never seen before.

 

The way he stared at Arthur was different than the rest of Nimueh’s employees. In their eyes, Arthur had always found judgment, derision, pity, or—sometimes—possessiveness. Yet in  _this_  man’s eyes there was only a sincere interest and appreciation, nearly to the point of adoration. That one look told Arthur that the man had no idea who and what Arthur really was. Rapt, Arthur couldn’t tear his eyes away from him.

 

The naked longing apparent on his elfin face hit Arthur like a punch to the gut. The sudden wave of genuine arousal he felt stunned Arthur. He couldn’t remember having such a sudden and visceral reaction to someone in…well _ever_. Until that moment, Arthur hadn’t even known he was still capable of feeling an honest-to-goodness attraction to someone that had no strings attached.

 

After a long, breathless moment where Arthur felt like his awareness had narrowed to just the two of them, the man startled as if waking from a dream. As he turned his lovely head away, Arthur could see the delicate colour that suffused his cheeks and the tips of his ears. He wondered whether the man was embarrassed to be caught staring or, like Arthur, was more than a little flustered and aroused.

 

Arthur mentally shook himself. He couldn’t afford to think about his own wants or yearnings. His hopes and desires for something deep and meaningful were not to be encouraged, for down that path lay madness. He was a whore; a very well paid one, perhaps, but still a whore and no one in their right mind would want a relationship with someone who accepted money for sex. Those were dreams that were long gone and best forgotten, at least until he could finish Uni. Perhaps then he could move far away from London and start a new life.

 

But still, for the first time since he was seventeen years old, someone had gotten past his defences and made him want something _real_. Shaken, Arthur decided he could probably use some air.

 

 _Get a hold of yourself, Pendragon,_  Arthur scolded himself fiercely as he made a beeline for the French doors that led to the garden. _Nothing good can come from thoughts like that. You need to get your head back in the game._

 

The cool night air was refreshing against his heated skin, and Arthur breathed a deep sigh of relief. He found a low wall nestled between some hedges and sat down in the shadows, grateful for the privacy. He needed to put the endearingly awkward but handsome stranger from his mind before Nimueh noticed his distraction.

 

Arthur tilted his head to the sky and stared at the twinkling stars in the midnight blue firmament, trying not to think of how they reminded him of the glint in the man’s blue eyes.

 

But then, as before, Arthur felt that irresistible pull, that unexplainable sense of _not alone_  and _belonging_. Incredulously, he turned his head to the side and saw the object of his wayward thoughts sitting not six feet away from him and almost mimicking his pose.

 

“Are you following me?” Arthur asked, both exasperated and unexpectedly fond. The answer was evident in the way the man startled and spilled his drink as he whipped around, searching for the source of the voice.

 

Arthur tilted his head as if to mirror the question, but when his companion simply continued to stare at him rather than answer, Arthur’s lips quirked up at the corners as he mock-lamented, “Trust me to be cursed with an idiot for company.”

 

As predicted, _that_  got a rise out of him! Even in the moonglow, Arthur could see the rosy blush staining the man’s lovely alabaster skin. “Hey! I’m sitting right here, and I’m not deaf!”

 

His smirk growing into a full-blown grin, Arthur teased, “I’m glad to hear that. Would be a waste with those ears of yours.”

 

Embarrassment turned into indignation. “Oh my God! You’re a complete prat!” He turned his head away from Arthur and mumbled as if to himself, “Figures. The gorgeous ones always are…”

 

Arthur’s eyebrows were almost completely hidden by his fringe, his surprise was so great…and then he couldn’t stop the mirth from bubbling over into a full-blown belly laugh.

 

“Did you just call me gorgeous?” Arthur asked, his voice still tinged with ill-restrained glee.

 

Deep blue eyes rolled heavenward as if asking for divine intervention. “I also called you a prat, but you _would_  concentrate on the other one.”

 

The man’s witty sarcasm was a welcome relief from the banal small talk and assessing leers that Arthur had become used to in his profession. It was refreshingly _genuine_  in a way he couldn’t describe, and the thrill of the momentary normality—of stepping outside his gilded cage—curled low and warm in Arthur’s belly.

 

Putting out a hand in greeting, Arthur drawled, “Since we have already moved on to name-calling... I'm Arthur Pendragon.''

 

Arthur saw the blush return to the lovely man’s cheeks as he ducked his head almost bashfully. It was endearing and sweet and oh-so-attractive. Still, the young man closed the distance between them and slipped a warm hand into Arthur’s grasp.

 

''Merlin Emrys,'' he replied softly. ''I've... I've only started working for Miss McKinsey.''

 

 _Well, **that** would explain why Merlin didn’t know who and what Arthur was…_  Arthur took a second to stroke the back of Merlin’s hand with his thumb. _Yes, his skin is indeed as soft as it looked…_

 

“Ah, so I guess you’re one of her creative minions,” he responded, and even  _he_  could hear the hint of bitterness in his tone.

 

Arthur had seen too many eager young men and women get chewed up and spit out by the well-oiled machine that was _Nimueh Designs_. Sooner or later, Nimueh would do the same to Merlin, too. After all, using people for her own gain was what Nimueh did best.

 

Merlin abruptly yanked his hand out of Arthur’s. ''I'm not a minion, thank you very much!'' he insisted hotly.

 

 _Well, Merlin certainly wasn’t like Nimueh’s usual grovelling, scraping worshippers,_  Arthur thought. Merlin must have real talent for Nimueh to stomach his feistier side, and told him as much…which of course, brought out more of the same.

 

''F-Feisty!? Who are you calling _feisty_? I'm not a girl, you…clotpole!''

 

The nonsensical word brought another hearty laugh to Arthur’s lips. He hadn’t had this much fun verbally sparring with anyone in _ages_! '' _Clotpole?_  What does that even mean?''

 

Merlin tilted his chin up defiantly. ''It means, ‘obnoxious, beautiful arsehat who acts like he is so much better than anyone around him’!''

 

And with that, Arthur’s desire for this impossible man ratcheted up another notch. He closed the distance between their bodies to allow their shared heat to warm the air surrounding them. ''That's the second time you called me beautiful, Mr. Emrys,'' Arthur declared, his voice deep and rich, pregnant with promise.

 

''No. I haven't. I—I called you g—gorgeous the last time,'' Merlin stuttered, and he suddenly seemed off-kilter and wrong-footed in the face of Arthur’s interest. He took a step back and then another. Arthur just kept closing the gap until the young man’s thighs were stopped by the low stone wall behind them.

 

Literally backed into a corner, Merlin’s bravado came back with a vengeance. ''And you know what they say, on how the package isn't always a good indication on the content.''

 

Merlin’s deep blue eyes flashed with genuine irritation, but the rosy hue that tinted the knife’s edge of his cheekbones and the tips of his ears gave the lie to the harsh words.

 

''Would you like to find out about that?'' Arthur whispered huskily, his eyes dropping to Merlin’s full lips as he thought about how much he’d like to kiss them.

 

''No, thank you,'' Merlin denied, doing a fairly good impression of a spitting cat. ''I'm not one to be blinded by a pretty wrapping. I'm not that shallow!''

 

No matter that the two of them were literally _surrounded_  by glittering opulence and hoards of vapid people, Arthur could tell that Merlin really meant what he said. After being looked upon as a commodity for so long, Arthur found Merlin’s simultaneously shy and forthright attitude refreshing.

 

''You're not, huh?'' Arthur asked, his voice soft in the still summer night. ''So what _would_  I have to do to impress you, Merlin? Ask your opinion on the Syrian conflict? Wax enthusiastically about the new Cartier-Bresson exhibition? Or maybe give a lecture on the stereotypical perception of beauty and intellect in human society?''

 

Merlin’s eyes goggled as his mouth gaped open and closed wordlessly. Apparently Arthur’s teasing had struck the other man temporarily mute, and Arthur intended to take full advantage whilst he could.

 

“Or…I could recite you some poetry, maybe? How about...? _‘He walks in beauty, like the night of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that's best of dark and bright meet in his aspect and his eyes...’_ ”

 

When Arthur’s soppy, mock-besotted expression elicited a snorting, strangled laugh from Merlin, he felt his own lips curl into a delighted grin. He couldn’t believe that he was flirting—real, honest-to-God _flirting_  with someone—but he was. And what was more, based on the crinkly-eyed smile that Merlin now had aimed in his direction, he was being flirted with right back.

 

Arthur knew he was playing with fire. He knew from experience that emotions and vulnerability led to nothing but pain. Yet, there was something about Merlin Emrys that made Arthur want to throw caution to the wind and defy all his own rules. Maybe, just this once, he could afford to dream a little.

 

But it was not to be. Just as Arthur moved to sit down next to Merlin, a voice from behind him exclaimed, “ _There_  you are…”

 

A bucket of ice water could not have been more effective at ruining the moment.

 

Arthur had to fight to suppress the shiver of revulsion he felt as Nimueh laid an arm possessively across his shoulders and dug her long nails into his bicep in silent warning. “I’ve missed you,” Nimueh cooed, and Arthur found himself nodding woodenly in response, slipping into the comfortable and safe world of comfortably numb with practiced ease.

 

''I’m sorry. I thought you were preoccupied with more important things,'' Arthur replied contritely. And if his eyes did not exactly convey the same, well, Arthur doubted that Nimueh would notice.

 

''Don't pout, baby,” Nimueh admonished, tracing one finger down Arthur’s well-defined jaw. “We will have more time for each other after the party. But for now, I want to show you off a little more.''

 

The wounded pain on Merlin’s face caused by Nimueh’s words made him look as if he’d been slapped. Arthur’s conscience throbbed painfully because he knew there was nothing he could do to ease Merlin’s suffering.

 

It didn’t matter that he’d rather be spending time laughing with, talking to, and teasing Merlin Emrys; he was Nimueh’s paid companion for the evening. He was a professional, and if he was going to maintain his sanity, that’s all Arthur could ever afford to be.

 

 _Yes,_  Arthur thought with a sigh, as he turned to watch the dejected young man melt into the crowd like a ghost, _it would be better for everyone if I put all thoughts of Merlin out of my mind. It would never have worked._

 

But despite his best intentions, Arthur’s nights were haunted by dreams of plush pink lips and bright blue eyes, of knife-sharp cheekbones and elfin ears, of ebony hair and alabaster skin, of love and belonging, and most of all... _home_.

 

EPILOGUE

 

 

Taking the World by Storm:

 _My Immortal_   Ushers in a New Era for Men’s Fashion

 

 

By Finna Catha, Fashion Correspondent for the _London Times_

 

**<>**

 

LONDON~When one takes a look inside shoppe windows or along the streets and thoroughfares of anywhere in the U.K., it’s hard to imagine a time when the wildly popular men’s clothing line _Camelot_ did not exist. Yet _Camelot_ , the brainchild of Lead Designer and Owner of _My Immortal_ Fashions Merlin Emrys, was only in its infancy four years ago.

 

Emrys, (whose name means “immortal” in Welsh, hence the rather apropos moniker for his fashion house) began his career in fashion design with the famed _Nimueh Designs of London_ , an experience Emrys describes only as “eye-opening and educational.” Whilst both he and the spokesperson for Niumeh McKinsey’s eponymous fashion house have historically kept mum on the reasons behind their hush-hush parting-of-the-ways, the event made worldwide fashion news when Countess Vivian Olaffsen of Sweden broke ties with _Nimueh_ in favour of Emrys’ more innovative style.

 

The result? A sleek but chic bridal gown with a touch of whimsy and romance, perfect for the future Queen of Denmark.

 

The dress was voted Design of the Year in 2010 by Vogue, Elle, Marie Claire _and_ Harper’s Bazaar, a feat not duplicated since 1981, when David and Elisabeth Emanuel’s design of Diana, Princess of Wales’ wedding dress dominated the world fashion stage.

 

The resulting whirlwind of attention netted the still-unemployed Emrys several Lead Designer offers from other fashion houses in London, as well as offers from foreign houses in New York, Paris and Milan. Yet, Emrys turned them all down, choosing instead to strike out on his own.

 

“I’d had enough of being told what to design and how to design it,” Emrys explained. “That kind of environment stifles creativity. I wanted to retain full creative control of my designs, and the only way to do that was to go into business for myself.”

 

Thus, _My Immortal_ was born. Emrys’ risky gambit quickly paid off when Crown Princess Vivian commissioned several pieces from him for her new royal collection.

 

Whilst Emrys made a name for himself as Vivian’s go-to designer, his true dream and passion was in the field of men’s fashion.

 

“The world of women’s fashion has always been a dominating force in design. One can find everything from conventional to avant-garde, chic and modern to soft and romantic,” Emrys said, his dark blue eyes sparkling with passion for the topic at hand. “Yet there was no such diversity in men's fashion. It was all either straight-laced and utilitarian, or else wildly fantastical with no practical use. Anything in between the two was just…missing.”

 

Emrys sought to fill that void with his _Camelot_ line, a feat in which he succeeded spectacularly. After _Camelot_ ’s debut at the Royal Fashion Show in the spring of 2011, demand for Emrys’ designs grew so rapidly that his fashion house had to hire more than 200 new employees in the first six months to keep up with the demand. Both his upscale and mainsteam lines have dominated the market share for the past three years and interest continues to grow in the multi-million pound business.

 

Emrys credits his continued success to one Arthur Pendragon, the man who acts both as Merlin’s muse and the face of his flagship fashion line.

 

It’s not difficult to see why Emrys would be so moved. Pendragon is a natural in front of the lens and the camera absolutely loves his flaxen hair and cornflower blue eyes, not to mention his strong angular jawline and the toned, muscular body that looks like it should belong on a footie captain rather than a supermodel.

 

If Pendragon looks positively regal whilst hawking Emrys’ wares, then it is surely because he could be considered fashion royalty. Pendragon is the only son of the famed fashion model Ygraine duBois and shipping magnate Uther Pendragon.

 

Despite this auspicious beginning, Pendragon’s life was anything but champagne and roses. Pendragon grew up mourning the loss of the mother he never knew (Ygraine died in childbirth) and learning how to navigate the uncertain waters of adolescence with an and emotionally-distant and mostly-absent father.

 

Pendragon’s foundation was further shaken when his father died unexpectedly of congestive heart failure, leaving him an orphan at age 16. The care of both Arthur and _Pendragon Industries_ was placed in the hands of Pendragon’s maternal uncle Agravaine, a decision that proved disastrous for both Pendragon and the company. Before the year was out, _Pendragon Industries_ was bankrupt, and Arthur was left homeless and penniless after his mother’s only brother diverted the contents of Arthur’s trust fund to an anonymous offshore account and fled the country.

 

In light of this stunning betrayal, Pendragon fought and won the right to be declared a major at age 17.

 

How Pendragon survived for the next six years is anyone’s guess. Not much is known about the time between then and his discovery by Merlin Emrys at the age of 23, as Pendragon refuses to discuss it. But survive it he did, although he admits that there were times that it was “only by sheer will and determination”.

 

If Pendragon is Merlin’s muse, then surely Emrys is also Arthur’s inspiration. Pendragon describes their meeting as “life-changing and world-altering”, although he admits with a chuckle that “it wasn’t very apparent at the time.”

 

That bold declaration makes more sense once you take into account that Pendragon and Emrys are married, having tied the knot in a private ceremony last June after dating for more than three years.

 

Their innovative collaborative efforts at _My Immortal_   have undeniably brought men's fashion out of the Dark Ages and into the 21st Century, launching a new trend that should hopefully be capturing our attention for years to come.

 

**Author's Note:**

> The dialogue in the first part of this story was written by Zaira.


End file.
